HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Advocate, 1887-12-01, Page 6SIR HUGH'S LOVES.
CHAPTER XXXIII.' 4
TH4 W44484 AT A049,10s.01424.
Weary 1 am, and all NO fair, •
Longing to clasp a hand;
For thou art yory far, swroot love,
From my mountain land.
Dea are the clouds yen giant bens
Fold o'or their,rugged breasts,
Grandly their straggling skirts lift up
Over the snow -flecked crests.
•
Dear are the hill -side gloomslind gleams,
Their varied purple how,
This opal sky, with distant peak
Catching its tender blue.
Dear are the thousand streams that sing
Down to the 'sunny sea,
But dearer to my longing heart
Were one bright hour with thee.
Haan Marion Burnside,
It was towards evening, at the close of a
lovely September day, that a rough equip -
page laden with luggage, with a black
retriever gamboling joyously beside it crept
rather slowly down the long lovely road by;
the Deeside leading to Rowan -Glen, one of'
ahem rare gems of Highland scenery that
are set so ruggedly in the Coirngorm moun-
tains.
Fay had just sheltered her sleeping baby
from the rays of the setting sun ; and sat
wearily in the jolting carriage'trying to
mall all the familiar landmarks that greeted
her eyes.
There were the grounds and preserves of
Moncrieff, with their lovely fringes of dark
pine . trees and silvery birches, and a
little further on the wicket gate
that led down to the Wiser 'inn of Rowan -
Glen.
By and by came a few low cottages built
of grey stone, and thatched with heather
fastened down with a rough net.wiirk of
ropes. One pr two of them were covered
with honeysuckle and clematis, And had
tiny gardens filled with • vegetables and
flowers, pinks and roses mingling In
friendly confusioli with gooseberry bu es
and cabbages.
A narrow plonked passage ran through
the cottages, with a door at the other end
opening on to a small field,•with the usual
sow -house, peat and straw stacks, And a
little shed inhabited by a few scraggy cooks
and hens which with " too coo" 'herself are
the household property Of all, even the poor-
est, of the Highland peasants.
Fay looked eagerly past them, and for a
moment forgot her trouble and weariness;
for there, in the distance, as they turned the
oorner, stretched the long irregular rangeof
the Cairngorm mountaine, with' the dark
shadow of the Forest of Mar at their base;
while to the right, far above the lesser and
more fertile hills, rose the snowy head° of
those stately patriarchs—Bemmuich.dhui
and Ben-na-bourd.
Oh; those glorious Highland mountains,
with their rugged peaks, against which the
fretted clouds "get wrecked and go to
pieces." What a glory, what a miracle they
are! On sunny mornings with their infinity
et wondrous color so softly, so harmoni-
ously blended; now changing like an opal
with every cloud that sails over them, and
now with deep violet shadows hunting their
hollows, sunny breaks and &eke, and long
glowing stretches .of heather. Well has
Jean Ingelow sung of them:
. . . White raiment, the ghostly capes that
Noreen them,
Of the storm winds that beat them, their thunder
rents and scars,
And the paradise of purple, and tho golden slopes
stween them
for surely there could not be a
grander or fairer scene on God's earth than
this.
A moment later the vehicle stopped
before a white gate set in a hedge of tall
laurels and arbutus, and the driver got down,
and came round to the window " Yonder's
t' manse. , Will I carry in the boxes for the
!eddy?"
" No no, wait a moment," replied Fay,
hurriedly. "1 must see if Mrs. Duncan be
at home- Will you help me out ?" for her
imbs were trembling under her, and the
weight of the baby was too much for ber
exhausted strength. She felt as though she
could never get to the end of the steep little
garden, or reach the stone porch. Yes; it
- was the same old grey house ; •
• ith the small"dia,
' , • g.,in the sunshine; and
she I. ; path, with Nero
barking de VI , e, the door
opened, and a little «hite
hood drawn over her white -Pa t
dening basket on her arm, stepped on
the porch.
Fay gave a little cry when she saw her.
"Ob, Mrs. Duncan," she said;
and, and the baby together seemed to
totter -1m* collapse in the little old lady's
arms.
"Graciousif!" exclaimed the star-
tled woman; then, . er basket and scissors
rolled to the ground ean, lass, where
are you? here are two • ., and one of
* them looks fit to faint—an ,it is never
nr dear little Mise Moran.
irn--" But eA this mein
Jeep's a
la 'red, freckled woman, with a• nt,
w her -beaten face, quietly li
mot r and child, and carried them
dusk little parlor; and in ano
minute y found herself lying on a cone ,
and th baby orying lustily in
,
lady was b g her face with some
while the little
'th the tears rollin
-
fragrant water
her olaeeks.
"Ay, my bonnie/
" you
have given Jean an , and there's
the big doggie, too, that would be after
liking your face—and for all he knows you
are better now—like a Christian. Run
away, Jean, and warm a sup of milk for
the bairn, and Maybe his mother wcluld like
a cup of tea and a freshly -baked scone.
There, give me the baby, and I'll hold him
while you are gone."
"There's Andrew bringing in a heap of
boxes," observed Jean, stolidly ; will he
be setting them down in the porch? for we
must not wake the minister."
"‘ Ay, ay," returned Mri Duncan, in a
bewildered tone ; but she hardly took in
the sense of Jean's speech—she was rook-
ing the baby in her old arm and looking at
the pretty, white, sunken face that hy
the chintz cushion. • Of course it was little
Miss Mordaunt, but what did it retain
—
what could it all mean?
"Mrs. Duncan," whispered ay, ad she
relied herself on her pillow, "I have come
to you because 1 am eo tiziluippyt and I
have no Other friend. I Skirl married, and
this is zny baby; and my husband does not
want me, and indeed it would have killed
hY; mY
red-
wn
me to idol) with him, and I have pome to
you, 'IA he roust not find me, and yen moat
take oare Pt hahY and me," and here her
tears burst out, and she dung round the old
lady'S POW; " hai-9 Mone4 'and I on inky
the rainieter I and X 4PI BP. X0144 Pt you heth.
do let me etity0I-
" WhiGht, Whiel4i my dearie," returned
Mrs. Dunoan, wiping :her own eyes and
Fay's. "Of courseY011 shall hitle with me;
would either Donald or 1turnout the shorn
lanai' to face the tempest? Married, my
hairn; why you look only fit for soot your.
sell; and With a bairn of 'your owe, too.
And to think that anynion could ill-use a
creature like that," half to herself; but
Fay drooped her head as she heard her.
Mrs. Duncan thought Hugh was cruel
to her, •and that she had flea tramtria
ill-
treatment, aPd she dare not contradict this
nclt'Vo'
"n'iraist never speak to me Of -my hue-
. .
band," continued .Fay, with an agitation
that still further misled Mrs. Lluncan., ." I
shOuld have died if I had stopped`with,hun ;
but I ran away, and I knew he would never
find me here. I have money enough—ah,
plenty—so you will not be put to expense.
You may take care of,,my purse; and I
have niere—a great deal more;" and Fey
held out to the dazzled eyes of the old lady
apurse full of bank notes and glittering gold
pieces, which seemed richeitself to her
Highland simplicity. ,
"Ay; and just look at the diem' o'nde and
emeralds on your fingers, my dearie ; your
man must haveplenty of this world's goods.
What do they call hira, my 'bairn, and
where does he live" — But Fay skilfully
fenced these'queetions. She celled herself
Mrs. St. Clair, she said, and ;her husband
was a landed proprieter, and lived in one Of
the midland counties in England; and then
ohs turned Mrs. Duncan's attention by ask-
ing her it she and baby might have the room
her father slept in. Then Jean brought in
the tea and buttered scones„ and the milk
for the' baby; and while Mrs. Duncan
fed him; ehe told pay abont her own
trouble:
For the hind, whiteleaded minister,
whom Fay remembered, was lying now
in hie het ; and he . had had two
strOkes of paralysis, and the third would
carry him off, the doctor said. 4 1.
One blessing is, ray Donald does not
suffer," continued Mrs. Duncan, with a
quiver of her lip; -"heis quite helpless,
poor man, and cannot stir himself, and.; eon
lifts him tip as thoueli'he were s'baby ; but
he sleeps most of his time, and when:he
is awake he never troubles—he just talks
about the old time when he brought me
•first to the manse; and sometimes he
fancies Robbie and Eleiearepulling flowers
in the garden—and no doubt they are—the
darlings, only it is in the garden of Para-
dise •' and maybe there are plenty of roses
and lilies there, such as Solomon talked
about in the Canticlee."
"And who take, the duty for . Mr. Dun-
can?"' asked Fay, who wee dis-
tressed to hear this account other kind old
friend.
"Well, our nephew, Fergus, rides over
from Corrie to take the services,forthe
Sabbath. He is to he wedded to ;Lilian
Graham, down at the farm yonder, and
sometimes he: 'auto up at•the mianse and
sometimes at the farm ; and they do say,
when my Donald has gone to the laiid of
the leal, that 'Fergus will- come to the
Manse; for though he is young, he is a
powerful preacher, and even St. Paul bids
Timothy to 'let no one despise his youth;'
but I am wearying you, my bairn, and Jean
has kindled a fire in the pink room, for the
nights are chilly, and you and
me will be going', up and, leaving
the big doggielo take dire of himself."
But "the big doggie" was of a different
opinion; he quite approved of his hostess,
but it was against his principles to allow
hiii'mistress.to go out of his sight. Things
were on a different footing now; and ever
since they had left Redmond Hall, Nero
considered himself responsible for the safety
of his two charges; so he quietly.„followed
them into the ,pleaemit low-ceilinged bed-
room, with its window lookingover the old-
fashioned garden and orchard; ,,,andlaid
himself down with his nose between his
paws, watching Jean fill the baby's
bath, to the edification of the two
"Jrnenn.,
helped Fay unpack a few necessary
Jean
'dee, and then went down to warm the
, for her master's supper; but
c�,sp pinned up her grey etuffgown
and eat ddlar, by the' 'fire • to undress
e baby, whilkVar languidly got ready for
1 that thef0t,other and child
*Abe hatiarknt these good
Samenztsnj,i „her',*ofchedness
and the strange eihi(i,fittjpi .,hav'y on
her young heart, a sort of lilkjeirt stole
over Fay as she lay between the coarse
lavender -scented sheets and listened to her
baby's coos as be tretched his little limbs
in the warm firelight.
"Ay, he is as fine and hearty AB our Rob-
bie was," observed Mrs. Duncan with a
sigh; and so she prattled on, now praising
the baby's beauty, and now commenting on
the fineness of ls ambrio shirts, and the
value otj ithied his night.
dress
r1.)
ha
4 A
ay fell 'aele „ k thought
istening to a little bi�k had
owedite banke, and was runn own
. .
e.
rdly woke up when Mrs. LutAin
r
aby in her arms, and left the*.
ured benediction, and wen
ssip with Jean. And si•
old eyes never saw," she
oung creature, who looks
with the bonnie boy in
den -brown hair cover -
d, Jean, the•*.inan
t in him -to ill-treat
ut we will keep
re as miname
i.J�sn agreeili
n's6Affisticated
the world's
said, "they
horn lamb
tempest,"
and her
bed the
place
with
down to
lovelier si
said, "than
only a child h
her arms, and h
ing them both: =
must have an evi
a little angel like th
her safe, my WWII
is Jeanie Duncan ;" an i
They were both ntiocen,
women who knew nothin
ways, and, as Mrs. Duncan
would as soon have tarnett!,
away, and left it exposed to C't
as shut their door against
child,
Fay was not able to rise from
next day; indeed for more tha %leek
she was almoet as helpless atiVei baby,
and had to submit to a great;*fleal of
nursing.
Mrs. Duncan was quite -4M her
element—petting her guest, and ; ordering
Jean about; for she was it brisk,
bustling little woman; and far more
Active than her throe.score-and-ten yeard
warranted.
It Was a delight to her motherly natare
to dress and undress Fay's bonnie boy.
She would prose fpr hours about Bobbie
and Elsie as she hat bead° the homely
cradle that had 9,119,e 404 her eVa,fitill4reP;
while Fey listened languidly. 16 was ell
she C91114, tc, lie there 0.11d sleep 494 -eat•
Perhaps it was bodily exhaustion; but a
sort of lull Mid come to her. She ceased' to
fret, and only wondered dreamily if Hugh
were very pleased to get rid of her, and
what he ' was doing, and who dusted and
arranged his papers for him now she woano
hoger there. But of course Mrs. Heron
would pee to that.
Jean had plenty of work in her bands,
but she never grumbled. There was the
baby's washing and extra cooking, and the
care of her old Master. But in epite of her
hard work, she often contrived to find her
way to the pink ro§ra ; for Jean worshipped
babies, and it was AI proud moment
when elle could gat the boy in
her arms and carry -him out for a breath of
air.
Mrs. Duncan told Fay that she had had
greatdifficulty in making herhusband under-
stand the fade of the case."His brain wee just
a wee bit clouded to every -day ;matters,"
she said; but 'he , knew that he
had guests- at the 'Manse, and
charged his wife to show every hoipi-
tality
"There's a' deal, said about the virtue of
hcispitality in -the Bible," he continued:
"There was Abraham ond the fatted calf;
and the good widews in the apostles' time
who washed the feet of stranger'; and some
havei entertifined angels unaware;"and it
shall never be said of lie, Jeanie woman,
that ive turned anybody from the Manse."
Fay' went to. see the oldinen whenshe
was strong enough to leave her rooiii;
which' was not for a fortnight after her
arrival.
She found him lying on one side of the
big bed with brown moreen hangings
that -she ;remembered so web, with
his head pillowed high, and -his
fine old face turned towards the setting
He looked, at her :. with a placid
smile as she stood beside him—o- small
girlieh figure, new sadly frail and
drodning; with her boy in her arms—
and held out his left hand—the right arm
was helpless. s. •
"Motherdand child," he mnrmured; "it
is Ajways,, before our eye, the Divine
picteirer.And Old and young; it touches the
manhood within uo. So you have come to
bide a .wee..with Jeonie and me- inthe old
Maiise my dear young lady; and you
are kindly welcome. And follui 'do •say
that thereis no air so fine as ours, and no
milk so pure as our brindled COW, gives, and
mey be it will give you a little odor into
your Cheeks."
"Don't yell remember me, Mr. Dundan ?"
aillettlay, somewhat diaappointed to find
hereelfittreated, like, an ordinary visitor.
4 Don't you remember Fay Mordannt, the
little girl who used to play with you in the
otchiird;? but I am Afraid I Wad older than
I looked.",
used to play with me in the
ciibbard;" replied the old man, wistfully;
" but Jeanie says- she has gone to Heaven
with wee Robbie. 'Nay, I never remember
names, ;except, Jeanie.,and may be Jean
cOmee handy. And there is one name I
never 'forget—the name of ' Lord
Jetinitt"'ind he hewed his old head rever-
'ezatly.
"Pomo away, my bairn; Donald- will
have plenty .to say to you'onother time,"
Said Mrs. Duncan, kindly. "He is a bit
drowsy, now, and be is apt te wander at such
time,s.
But.- the milliliter heard her and
00.stirt P61 holy smile lit up his rugged
face. 'I c. . •
•AyOn* He'll no let me wander far; I
haykalweys got a grip of His hand, and if
my, ,Olcrleat stumble a bit Para jut lifted
'Could not forget • His name,
which is Love, and nothing else.. 'But per-
haps,yon are right„Jeanie, lass, and I am a
bitsteepy: Take both the bairns away, and
Watch Over Ahem se though they were lambs
of ; the' fold—and so they are lambs of His
foldr finished the oltrman. ",,And may. be
the Shepherd found thernetraying, poor bit
SAN:tines, and sent them here for you and
Me to mind, my woman:"
CHAPTER XXXLV.
TRACK -ED A'S LAST.
Thus it was granted
TCNino 'WUnif his' loved me to the depth and
, height
Of such large natures; ever competent,
With grand horizons•by the sea or land, -
wo love's grand sunrise. ,
' ' BiisabeihBarrett Browning,
• 'It was at the close of a lovely Septem-
ber day' that Raby.Feriers eat alone in the
puzzle/of a large fashionable boarding-house
cn This favorite American water.
ing.place ivah, , as usual, thronged by
visitors, 'who came either to seek relief for
various ailments frora the fax...famed hot
springs; or to enjoy -the ealubrious air and
Splendid scenery ;:tlast made W— so
notorious.
The piazza was always the favorite lounge
at all hours of the day, but especially
towards evening. A handsome striped
awning, and the natural shade of the
splendid tropioal plants that twined round
the slender pillars, gave a pleaziant shade
even at noonday. Broad low steps led to
the gardens, and deck -chairs and cushioned
rocking choke were plaoed invitingly at
ntervals.
0. gay bevy of girls had, just taken pones -
n of these coveted 'mats, and were chat -
ring with the young men who had just
lowed them 8ut of the hot dining -room ;
no one invaded the quiet corner where
t English clergyman had established
mself, though maw', ,air of laughing
es grew a little sad and wistful when they
edited on the grave, abstracted face of the
blind man.
1" He looks so dull," observed one girl—
s fair delicate blonde; who was evidently
the belle, for she was surrounded by at
least half a dozen young men. I have
half a 'mind to go and speak to him myself
only you would all be watohingme." .
1' Miss Bellagrove cannot fail to be the
cynosure of all eyes," returned a beardless
dapper young man, with the unmistakable
Yankee accent; but to this remark
Mime Bellagrove merely tiirned a cold
shoulder.
His sister hasbeen,away most of the
afternoon," she continued, addressinfg al
gdPd-laiikingleting officeiwhoheld her fari.
" :‘,reks mo clever of Ohio hria oat that
s he was hieister, Captain Mandeley,
hod wile made up my mind that;thoy were
notice the likeness between them; but then
they might have been cousins, and she does
seem ho devoted to him," But here a
whisperalcidinonition in her ear made Miss
Bellagroye break off her sentence railer
abraptly,,as at that moment Miss Ferrero'
fall figure,,in the wool grey gown, wits peen
crossingone of alie little lawriP towards the
piazza.
"She is wonderfully distinguished look -
"Afoot English women are tall, I do
believe; don't you think her face beautiful,
piprgetiilyw.as Mies Bellaflrove's next remark.
Captain Mandeley ;" hut the reply to this
raade Miss Bellegreve change color very
,Raby was profoundly oblivious of the
interest he•Was exciting; he was wondering
what had detained Margaret allthese hours
haniaid.if she Ironld have anY news to bring
,
As yet their journey had been fruitless.
They had reached Nevi York just at; Miss
Campion and her companion had quitted
it they had followed on their track—but
had always arrived either a day or an,hour
too late. Now and then they had to wait
Until a letter from Fern gave them more
debided ,particulars. Occasionally they
made a mistake and found that -Miss
Canipion .had changed her plans. Once
they were in the same train, and Margaret
never found it out until she saw Crystal
leiv'm the carriage, aria then there was no
time to follow her. Margaret shed tears
of disappointmentoind blamed hereelf for
her own blindness; but Baby never re.
proaohed her. •
He was growing heartAiok and weary by
thii tune. They had spent weeks in
this search, and were,as far from success
the ever—no wonder Raby's -face • looked
grave and overcast as- he sat ,olone in the
piazza.
Even Mergaret's protracted absence raised
no sanguine expectations m his mind ; on the
. . . .
contrary, as his practised* ear recognized
phaetriafonoatas.te,p, he breathed a short prayer for
Dear Roby" she said, softly, as she
took a seat besidehim and unfastened the
clasps of her long cloak; "1 have been away
elonger time than usual; have you been
'wanting me ?"
"Oh, no," With a faint ; "Ferguson
took care of me at dinner, and I hid's'
pleasantAinerican widow on the other side
who amused me very much—she 'told me
some capital stories about the Canadian
settlers; so, on the whole, I did very wen.
I begin to like Ferguson immensely ;' he is
a little broad, but still very sensible in
his views. He comes from Cumberland,
he tells me, anti has rather a large cure of
havelwuabsently—"'lY8.bee"enddoeinrgiu—b
but you do not ask zne what I
Roby."
ut Margaret spoke
"No,"—very slowly; and then, a
touch of sadness, "1 begin to think it is
better not to ask."
"Poor fellow,"—laying her hand on hie
arm caressingly. "Yes, I understand you
are beginning to lose hope. What did I tell
you last night—that it is always the dark-
est hour before the dawn. Do you remem-
ber bow fond Cryatal was of that song?
Well, it is true, Baby; I have been stop-
ping away for some purpose this after.
noon. Crystal and Miss Campion are
here."
" Here I" and at Baby's exclamation more
than one head turned in the direction xif
brother and sister.„
"Yes, in W—. Do not speak so loud,
Raby ; you are making people look at OB.
Take my arm, and we will go into the
shrubberiee; no one will disturb us there."
And as she guided him down the steps, and
then across a secluded lawn, Roby did not
speak again until the' scent of the flowering
shrubs told him they, had entered one of
the quiet paths ;leading away from the
house. .
"Now, tell me, Maggie," he asid,
quickly; and Margaret obeyed at mice.
"1 was at the station, as we planned,
and saw them arrive; so for once the infer -
motion was oorreot. Crystal got out first,
and went in search of the lugging°. I con-
cealed myself behind a bale of goods—wool.
packs, I believe—and she passed me quite
closely; I could have touched her with my
hand. She looked very well, only thinner,
and I think older; it struck me
inn had grown, tob, for' she certainly looked
taller."
-"It is possible; and;you really saw her
fa e, Margaret ?"
"Yes; ehe was looking away. She is as
beautiful as ever, Roby.. No wonder people
stare at her so. She is as much like -your
ideal Esther as she used to be, only there
is a grander look about her altogether
—less like the girl, and more of the
woman."
"Ah, she has suffered so; we have all
aged, Maggie. She will think us both
changed."
Margaret suppreesed a sigh—she was
almost thankful that Baby's blind eyes
could not see the difference in her. He was
quite unconscious that her youthful bloom
had faded, and that her fair face had
settled, znatured look that Seldom comes
before middle age • and she was glad that
this was so. Neither of them spoke now of
the strange blight that bad passed over her
young life. Margaret had long
since ceased to weep over it; it
was her cross she said, and she had learnt
ite weight by this time. .
"Web, Margaret?" for she had paused
for a moment.
I did not dare to leave my place of con-
cealment until she had passed. saw Miss
Campion join her. She is a pleasant4brisk,
looking woman with grey hair, and rather a
young face. I followed them out of the
station, and heard them order the driver to
bring them here."
"Here I To this house Margaret ?"
"Yea—wait momeni—but of course I
knew what Mrs. O'Brien would say—that
there was no room; so I aid not trouble to
fellow, them very closely; in fact I knew
it *Mild be inclose. When I did arrive I
went' straight to Mrs. O'Brien'e patio!' and
&eked if she had managed to accommodate
the two ladies.",
" did "not knew they wore friends of
ybrire,,Mime rerrers,,, she said, regretfully.
' Butiehat could I do ? There is not vacant
bed in the house; and I knew the hotel would
be ,just as fa; so I sent them down to
Mrs. Madder at, the corner house, down
yonder—it is only a stone's throw from
here. Audi ion tbld the ladies, 'they can
join us' at lrincheon and dinner; and make
Wm of the drawing.room. I knew Mrs.
Maddox hid her two best bedrooms and the
front Older' Pretty.' Of course I thanka
'tot sif `14liff'ief31:IStPn4tmElit PIUS...O'Brien; and.said no doubt 'this Wohld
do excellently for our friends; and then a
walked past the corner house exid found
they were carrying in the lugpge, and
Midi; Campion:woe standing at the door
talking to a colored servant."
"You actually passed the bowie?
Margaret, liciw imprudent Sup- ;
posing Crystal had seen you from the
window?'
bes"idOehs: githYeLl9aiks aandhonvgeilstariipsguoifseagirdeen;
between the house and the road. I could .
;
hardly distinguish Crystal, though I amid ,
seelhere was some one in the parlor. And
now, what are we to do, RabY ? It Will
never do to risk meeting at table d'hote;
in a crowded room, Crystal might see ug,,
and make her escape before 1 could menage! ''
to intercept her; and yet, how are we to
intrude on /Aim Campion? it will be dread:*
fully awkward forms all."
--
"1 must think over it," he answered;
quickly, "It is growing dark now, Margaret; rr
is it not ?" ;
"Yes, dear; - do you feel chilly --shall tra
tghoe"irNne gwataenitead'oinug too tthaakeraamde, ifaartoori_
not? I should like to go past the house; '
will make"it seem more real, Maggia;"
you shall cleisoribe exactly how :itsri
situated" 'compiled at ance_a4,110-,t.
worlds would she have hinted that she was -
already nearly spent with fatigue andWinir • *
of food.. Cathy, the bright little hfulaki01,
chamberMaid, would got her S cup of4dia::
thetr ePtps israzesz. swbrighthaambeeno on ihfiohntg
wanted, to paes the house that held hit „,
and a sandwich presently. Baby's
like '" whit must be indulged;
bydetsheriaiet4inlibt'
'
shadows were dark under the avenue,
the road was thickly planted with tin*, ,
Just as,they were nearing. the corner housed;
—a low white building with a verandah ruis.
ning round it—Margaret drew Roby some-
what hastily behind a tall Maple, for her '•
keen eyes had caught sight of two figures- ,
standing by the gate. As the moon emerged
from behind a cloud,. she -saw Cryetal.
plainly; Miss Campion was 'beside.
her with a black Yell 'thrown over her
grey hair.
'Margaret44, whispered "hush!" was a,
sufficient hint to Roby, and he stbod
motionless. , The next moment the voice
that was dearer t� him than any other
sounded close beside him—at least --
it seethed SO in the clear resonant Minos- ,
phere.
"What a delicious night; how white
that patch' of moon -lighted road has
where the trees do not cast their shadows
so heavily. I like this quiet road.
I am quite glad the lboarding-house
was full I think the cottage is much.
conicera.'ziler, yea,"
laughed the other; " but
that le a speech that ought to have come
out of my middle-agedlipe. What an oddi
girl you are, Crystal; you never seem to
care for mixing with young people; and
yet it is only natural at your age. You are
a terrible misanthrope. I do believe,
you ' would rather not dine at the,
table d'hote only you are ashamed to
say so.'!
" I have no right to inflict my minim)
thropy on you, Miss Campion; as it
is, you are Inc too indulgent to my morose
moode."
" Morose fiddlesticks," was the energetio
reply. "But there, I do like young people;
to enjoy themselves like young people. =
Why, if I had"your youth and good looks ;„
well,"—with a change Of tone sufficiently
explicit—" it is no use trying to make you
conceited; and yet that handsome,
young American ---wasn't he a colonel?
--tried to make himself as pleasant as he
could."
" Did. he ?" WAS the somewhat
indifferent answer; at which Miss
Campion shook her head in an exasperated'
way.
" Oh", it is no use talking to you," with •
good-natured impatience. ',English or.
American; old, ugly, or handsome; they
are all the same to you; and of course, by,
the natural laws of contradiction, 'the
absurd creatures are all bent on making
you fall in love with them. Now that
colonel, Crystal, I can't think what fault
you could find with him; he was manly,'
gentlemanly, and as good looking as a man
o do
ao abaet.
'care for good looking men."
"Or for plain ones either, my dear. I'
expect you are romantio, Crystal, and have
an ideal of your own." - *
"And if I answer, yes," returned the
girl, quickly, "will you heave off teasing
me about = all those stupid men. If
you knew how I hate it—how I despise them
all." '
"All but the ideal," observed Mies Cam-
pion, archly ; but she took the girl's hand
in hers, And the shrewd, clever 'face soft-
ened. "You must forgive an impertinent
old maid, my dear. Perhaps ehe had her
story too, who knows. And so you have
your ideal, my poor, dear child; Ind the
ideal has not made you a happy woman.
It never does," in a low voice.
"Dear Miss Campion" returned Cry5i.
tit), with a blush; " if Itani unhappy, it is:
only through my own fault; no one else is
to blame, and—and—it is not as you,think.
It is true I once knew a good man, who
has made every other min mem puny and
insignificant beside him; but that is because
he was BO good, and there was no other
reason."
"No other reason, except your love for
him," observed the elder woman, stroking
her hand gently. "I have long suspected
this, ray dear."
"Oh, you must not talk ee," answered
Crystal, in a tone of 'poignant distress;
"you do not know, you cannot understand.
Oh, it is all so and. I owe him everything.
My ideal, oh yes; whom have I, ever seen ,
who could compare with him—so !strong,
so gentle,, iito forgiving?, Gh, you, mud
never let me talk of him; it brooks my
heart."
"Ccime, 'away, Me &rat, whispered
Baby, hoarsely, in her .atir. r hive no
right to 'hear this;' it is betrayitig)ny dar.
ling'e confidence. Take Ind away, for I
cannot trust myself another ntoment;
and it is late—too late to speak to her to-
night." : •
-(Tp, bike:Ahmed: ,
Mrs. Geo; kort :Huron, Wife ,of a -
Grand Trunk 06nductOr Harvey, Oa an "
overdode of liaditinuit tn. Wednetality' night
and died. on'Efiday.i Bhe`was in'the;habit
AP teing„1 the 1,drPg **make, lier)pkk011ind/ 4'4
„ ISCOViteif*AIS'bOOOdliSliLl .70
144 4' ..440
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